Magick
by KairiMcEwin
Summary: [Edited ver. of Foxhole.] Harry's tired of fighting. Tom never realized that he might have wanted someone to protect. But the emerald eyes of the weak child were broken; though Thomas Riddle was broken in his own way. Can these two save each other? Tom Riddle x Harry Potter, violence, Dark Harry, Manipulative Light Side, other pairings as the story redevelops. Set in sixth year.
1. Interrupted Evening

**A/N. Yes, the edited version of 'FoxHole' is here! I hope you enjoy, this is completely different~ I wanted to go for a different angle.**

* * *

Tom lazily read the thick novel by the warm fire, feeling perfectly content. Nagini curled around him affectionately, her elegant body on the back of the plush armchair and her serpentine head sleepily resting on his shoulder. He wore his dark green sweater beneath the usual attire of his black robes, as it was his favourite during his relaxing evenings. Outside the windows a storm was roaring, the rain streaming against the glass panes. He didn't mind. That was why he felt so cozy, reading a fascinating Muggle mystery novel.

If there was anything he preferred from the Muggle world, it was their literature. Without magick, their imaginations ran wild.

He brushed back his dark bangs, his scarlet eyes devouring the words. He didn't hide his appearance when his followers were not in his presence; he felt more relaxed when he didn't have the annoying glamour coating his body. He was Tom Riddle in private; with the groomed dark chocolate hair and the handsome features he prided himself on. He even relaxed his normally rigid conduct, curling in the plush armchair with his legs folding close and his stature slightly slouched. A small bowl of his favourite sweets, rich chocolate centered by caramel, sat on the elegant side-table its contents slowly being depleted. The fire was warm and bright, the novel intriguing, and the chocolate divine; this was Tom's bliss.

He was broken out of his little reverie by his faithful serpent stirring, her coils slowly unraveling from her master. "_Nagini, what distracts my lovely girl_," he whispered in the snake tongue, stroking her regal head.

The snake's eyes flickered bemusedly for a moment. Tom treated his elegant ophidian as though she were his daughter; she knew she was spoilt and she loved every moment of it. "_I merely sensed a disturbance somewhere. No concern, I shall throttle any who think to disturb Master_," she cooed, slipping away.

Tom smiled affectionately as she glided into the shadows; his favourite viper was a wonderful companion. She always mothered him, no matter what had happened to him. It began as he possessed her child, and grew into such a close relationship. His familiar... He called after her, "_Send for me if by chance you require my assistance_," to which she gave a hissing laugh as she took her leave.

A few moments later; or so it seemed, for he was deeply entranced by the novel; he sensed the alarm pulsating through the deep bond he shared with the piece of soul inside his snake. He folded the corner of the well-worn novel and set it aside, throwing on the glamour once more. He hurried through the large oaken doors, down the hall, entering the main hall. What he saw from the top of the grandesque staircase was nothing short of disgusting.

The Death Eaters were harming an innocent boy. As Nagini curled around him, sickened and searching for comfort, she hissed that the boy was defenseless. Tom Riddle was no monster. He fought for his side and nothing less. He remembered all too well the beatings of the orphanage... "What are you fools doing?" he snarled in human tongue.

Lucius smiled up at his lord. "Simply disposing of the filth that stained your front steps." Another well-aimed cure to the young one's cloaked head; as the small child was attempting to get up, the hex had caused a blow to his head that smacked the forehead against the jet-black marble floors. "It thought it should get pity from you, my lord, when it begged." The cruel laugh that curled Lucius' lips made Tom cringe in disgust inside. Truly, his underlings were disgusting yet effective.

He glided down the steps, Nagini curled loosely about his neck and shoulders as though she were his loving scarf. His wand lazily flicked, and Lucius was thrown back into the wall. Another wave sent the other three through the window. His scarlet eyes flashed in anger at the man, gathering himself beneath the broken wall. "Do not harm unless it is under my orders, Lucius," the dark lord hissed. Tom knelt down to the boy, placing a slender hand on the other's head. His scarlet eyes widened when the small one jerked away, whimpering. "Silence, now, there is no more harm done, child."

Perhaps the boy would do well as a sort of servant; house elves were entertaining, but quite droll. The boy's emerald eyes peeped out, surprising him with their intense, still rather innocent gaze. "'M quite sorry... I hadn't announced myself..."

Why, the boy was quite amusing. Lord Voldemort chuckled to himself, levitating the boy onto a hovering stretcher he had conjured. "No matter, whatever you require can be addressed when you are well."

The boy nodded, carefully sitting himself up. As they made their way through the halls of Riddle Manor, Tom noticed how delicately the beaten child treated his ankle. Once they reached Tom's study, the stretcher became a cot as Tom had done a series of medical scans. The results astounded him; crookedly-set bones from fractures, a fragile immune system, half-starved, and had caught the flu.

"Child, answer me; where have you been living? You are of magical heritage, aren't you?"

He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. "Yeah... My uncle... he's Muggle. He hates magic..."

Tom stared, a fury welling up in him. How dare a filthy Muggle attack a child, and a wizard at that! He swept over to his potion cabinet, levitating potion after potion before the boy. "Drink them, now."

The boy obeyed silently, taking every potion given to him without a complaint. He called a house-elf to leave a dish of Shepard's Pie in the spare guest room, something to fill the boy. He continued to perform scans and spells to heal him, not even noticing the fact that the child was speaking to Nagini until once he was sure he had done his best. Then he paused, watching them converse. Nagini was content with comforting him, and the boy mentioned his uncle several times.

"You shall need sleep," Tom interrupted.

"H-here?" The boy seemed surprised, and... nervous. Tom nodded, putting away the potions and such. "But... you don't know who I am."

"Food will be brought to your chambers, be sure you eat before you sleep." He knew the boy was exhausted, and still sore most likely. Besides, the child was struggling to keep awake, Tom could tell. "There will be time for talking later, sleep is best. Nagini, show him to a room."

The serpent nodded, sliding onto the floor as the boy stood. The boy's emerald eyes, under unkempt bangs, peeped out of the hood. "Th-thank you... but it would have been better if you had let the Death Eaters kill me."

The door swung shut behind the mystery of this boy.

* * *

Tom's red eyes opened in the middle of the night. He slept lightly in his large, plush bed, though there were plentiful wards. But, it seemed someone had slipped through his blood ward. Nagini slid close, hissing, "_It is the little hatchling, he has gotten lost._" Yes, Tom could see the form under the thick blanket, a few inches away from him. "_Leave him, he wasn't sleeping well. Best have him close lest those fools hear his_ _mumbling_."

"_He hadn't slept well?_" Tom watched the boy, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He, unlike popular belief, could see no better than any other in the dark. He could see tangled black hair in the shadows, but the boy's back was to him. It interested him that someone could slip through his blood ward, but be was half-asleep and chalked it up to the potions in his daze. "_Does he say much?_"

"_From what I understand of human tongue, the hatchling talks of a man hurting him, and judges himself._" Tom noticed how softly the snake said 'hatchling', and smirked. "_Hush, master, he is quite young and needs much protection and care._"

Tom nodded, sighing and relaxing against his pillow. Nagini curled her coils around his waist, enjoying the body heat. He fell into sleep, only to be awoken again by the sleeping boy sub-consciously curling close to the comfort of human warmth. The boy was trembling, clinging to him instinctively. He remembered that the boy had hinted his Uncle would hit him, and so he held him gently. At the Dark Lord's touch the boy relaxed, quieting. Tom sighed and fell asleep again.


	2. Realisation

Thomas Riddle awoke to the sound of a _thwump_ and shot up in bed. The blankets had been pulled to the side, from the child's fall. Tom chuckled as the young one tried to disentangle himself from the sheets. He managed to free himself, and Tom caught a glimpse of untidy raven hair before it was hidden by the hood. The stunning green eyes, the eyes that were seemingly coloured like a Killing Curse, peeped out from the hood. They were surprised, and still somewhat tired. "I-I thought this was my room..." he whispered. Tom chuckled, rising from bed. Obviously, the boy was not used to seeing a Dark Lord in silky dark green night-clothes, and stared at Tom with flushed cheeks.

"As we are both awakened, and it is-" Tom cast a wandless 'aevus' charm, watching the magic transform itself into the time of 6:23 in the air before him, "almost half past six, I think breakfast is in order. Nagini, take him to his room, there will be some proper clothes there for him." The serpent nodded, but before the boy could move, Tom grasped his shoulder. "I have questions for you today, and you will answer them." The boy shivered, but he nodded quietly as he left the room.

* * *

The boy obviously was not fed well before, as he ate not ravenously, but swiftly. He did keep his manners, thanking Tom and even the houself who served him. The elf made a tiny, terrified bow before skittering away, leaving the boy blinking. But Tom called him to attention, and led him back to the study. The boy was sat in a davenport and Tom in the one opposite facing him.

"First, I would like to know your name." Ah, the boy's hands were weaving patterns in themselves in nervousness. "Is the reluctance to identify yourself due to the fact that you are a sort of enemy of mine?" Tom asked perceptively, earning a nod. "But... obviously you do not wish to be my enemy, or are confused."

"The latter is the closest..." The boy's soft voice was oddly familiar to Lord Voldemort, but was soft enough to keep him from placing it.

"I see. Confused as to my motives?" A nod. "Then perhaps, if it will ease you, I shall explain." Green eyes met his, showing him the smaller was listening. "When I came into the Wizarding World, I saw a world with predijuice, hate and simple-minded-ness. Creatures were labeled as 'Dark' because of Mudblood's foolish views. Magic that was slightly harmful with certain effects were considered Dark as well. Potions tailored by blood- Dark. This simple-mindedness, it frustrated me. I was condemned in their eyes because of my Parsel-Speech, I was hated."

The boy seemed to have drunk in every word. "I... I learned recently I was being lied to. I was being used by Dumbledore, and my so-called 'best-friend'. A few of my friends still stand by me... but I... I'm viewed as a tool."

Tom studied the boy. He had sensed such potential magic in him, such a powerful magical core that it could not be ignored. And of course, that deceptive fool would use that. Tom stood, strode to the boy, and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You are welcome here, understand?"

"Even... even if you want me dead?"

"Do I?"

"You would kill me if you knew my name. You have tried for a long time."

That's when the pieces fell in place, and understanding filled ruby eyes. Of course. Of course, this foolish boy would think he could hide himself still after revealing so much. It made him almost smirk, but he then thought about what Harry Potter had told him upon his arrival- or what he had revealed. His uncle... Tom knew that there was much more underneath it all. Perhaps it would be best to play along, let the boy relax and tell him more. Potter would reveal more to Tom than if he knew Tom's realisation. Yes, play along and see.

"Is there a name you would rather have than your true one? I must call you something."

Potter seem to be in indecision. Finally, he settled on a name- "Sylwyn."


	3. Truth of a Bond

Tom Riddle watched the hooded teen with slight interest. He had begun to give him small tasks, practically meaningless but to occupy Potter. Weeding the garden, tending to Nagini(Tom was sure Harry would know nothing of Horcruxes, and the serpent had taken to the child), bringing him tea and accompanying Lord Voldemort during meetings if only to watch over the snake. At the moment, Harry was weeding the herbs. Tom rested in the shade of an oak tree. Wards guarded the place, so there was no intrusions possible for the death eaters or... unwanted guests. That allowed Tom to relax without the god-awful glamour. The first time the teen saw his true face, there was an audible sqeak. It had amused the older greatly. Harry was working hard it seemed. He was clearly used to work.

Tom still wasn't sure what to make of the situation. What exactly had the boy's uncle done to him to warrant such damage? If Dumbledore knew, then he must have wanted Harry... malleable, to put it lightly. Voldemort knew that man was sick, but to this extent...? And the young wizard's subserviant attitude bothered Tom. To what extent was Harry harmed, that made him so... slave-like? This wasn't making sense. Tom remembered a strange imprint on the teen's core. A barrier, almost. It was self-inflicted, a cage that once held back the potential. Was it possible that Harry's relatives had beaten him into suppressing his own magic? Tom knew it was more than likely. Harry merely hinted that his uncle hadn't liked magic, but Tom sensed that it was to a larger extent than the wizard let on.

Tom came from his thoughts when he noticed Harry hadn't moved from a tall weed. From the foliage, Tom recognized it as 'stinging nettle', or sting-weed, as it was called in America. Harry was already getting a rash, but he kept attempting to pull it. Tom stood and strode along the charming cobblestone path towards him, resting his hand on his shoulder. Green eyes peeped up at him, surprising the dark lord with the intense look.

"Sylwyn, that is nettle. I do not expect you to harm yourself trying to pull it." Tom summoned an itching cream, helping the other apply it on his rashed hands. "You have done enough work today." Tom led him back to the patio table in the shade, just as a house-elf delivered the late-afternoon tea and sweets. Tom gestured for Harry to sit, taking his own seat. When he noticed Harry hadn't touched his teacup, Tom sighed. "Sylwyn, you are allowed to have some. There is plenty for the both of us."

Harry nodded, taking the cup hastily in embarrassment. "Thank you, uh, your Lordship."

Tom had the urge to laugh, but quelled it and showed only a bemused smile. The boy must have been unsure; he wasn't a Death Eater, so he couldn't address the Dark Lord as "My Lord", and he wasn't a common house-elf, so he couldn't use 'Master'. Harry must have thought a simple 'sir' would offend the older in some way. "Sir may suffice, Sylwyn."

Harry was clearly flustered. "S-sorry, er, sir." The boy was amusing and never failed to surprise Tom.

"Tell me, Sylwyn, do you go to Hogwarts?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"What is your house?" Tom simply was curious how much Potter would try to hide.

"U-uh, Hufflepuff..." Ah, a house that was mostly under the radar.

"I suppose you're hiding your true house?"

"Yes, sir... but..."

"I am listening."

"When I was being sorted, I had... asked the hat not to put me in Slytherin. It wanted me in there, but I had met someone that reminded me of my cousin. So I asked for... Hufflepuff. But now, I don't think I made the right choice..."

Now, this was a revelation. So, the boy had Slytherin qualities? "I see. Sylwyn, do you know about glamour?" A shake of the hooded head, as he hesitantly took a french pastry. "If you would like, I could teach you it. As you can see, I can change my appearance. This is how I truly look, but before my followers, I wear a glamour. If you wish, I could arrange you under your 'name' to enter Hogwarts as a transfer student. No-one will force you into this war, and you could study without that meddling old fool interfering. I already have two of my death eaters stationed there." If Tom went through with his plan, he would have to tell Harry he knew his identity. The boy would find out anyway, as the Dark Lord would have to create a reason that prevented Potter from returning to school.

"Two?"

"One is Severus, the Potions Master. The other, if you so choose Slytherin, will be your housemate, Draco Malfoy."

The cup shattered on the cobblestone; obviously, Harry hadn't expected the last name. "M-Malfoy?!"

With a flick of his wand, he repaired the teacup. "I take it you do not get along well with him?"

"N-no, sir..." Harry appeared nervous. "He and I aren't quite best mates."

"I would not be surprised." Now would have to be the time. If he were to bring Harry to his side, he must first gain his trust. And to establish trust, honesty was key. "After all, it is the Gryffindor Hero against a Slytherin Prince."

"I guess..." Harry hadn't seemed to have caught on until a few seconds later. Then he had squeaked in alarm, standing up fast enough to knock over the chair. Intelligent green eyes stared in shock and fear at the other. "You... know...?"

"You had best start being very careful with what you say, Harry." The teen trembled, then turned to run. But Tom was a step ahead, swirling magic in the air to trap Harry. "Now, have I been nothing but polite? Even when you found yourself in my bed, I hadn't done the slightest thing. You're confused, I can help. No matter what lies Dumbledore has fed you, I can assure you, I will not allow a child to participate in this political war."

"And what about Draco?" Harry pushed back his hood, and Tom saw the dark shadows beneath the bright green. "How come he's-"

"He is a spy, and under a task I cannot trust Severus to." Tom strode to Harry, grasping his chin. "I will make sure you are safe." But he could see in the boy's green eyes that he didn't believe him.

* * *

"My lord, the boy has gone!"

Thomas Riddle wasn't in the best of moods. Death Eaters avoided their irate Master as he paced the entrance hall. Harry had left, and gone... where? Surely not the Muggle residence. But even as Tom thought Harry wouldn't go there, he must punish the muggles. For harming Harry Potter.

Harry was under Tom's wing now, Tom would make sure they won the war with Harry at his side, as a- student? heir? lov- No, no, Tom dispelled that thought. The boy was still in school. But Tom vowed to protect Harry.

A terrible pain suddenly ripped through Tom's back. It was almost like the 'phantom pain' of emotions he received from his horcruxes, but this one... it pleaded. With Harry's voice.

"T-Tom, sir, t-take me h-home- AAUGH!" That scream haunted him. He focused on the tether, Apparating to Harry. What he saw was nothing short of horrifying.

A fat, whale of a man was whipping a Harry with- why did Harry have wings? The fat man mumbled about freaks, lashing a back covered in welts and scars. Tom could see 'freak' carved into Harry's side. That one word ignited so much rage in him. He began sending a volley of curses and hexes at the muggle, sending him into a plush couch. Namely, he used crucio, forcing the muggle to feel his relative's pain.

Voldemort kept attacking, the rage undying, until a trembling hand grasped the hem of his robe. Tom knelt to him, examining the bloodstained wings. They were a brilliantly cobalt blue, beautiful and soft. They made Harry look like a fallen angel. He drew dittany from a pocket, having had grabbed it before leaving, and began rubbing it into his back. But he paused, staring in surprise. The wounds had already begun to heal; Harry's core was healing him. This was why there was those unproperly set bones; as a child, Harry healed himself unconciously. Tom watched as his back fully healed, the wounds closing instantly. He helped Harry up, smoothing the messy hair. Harry's intense green eyes looked up, with a cat-like pupil; Tom knew now. The Potters had a veela heritage, that had been passed to Harry. Tom cleaned him of blood and summoned a plush robe for him.

"Go and retrieve all of your belongings. You will not be returning." Harry nodded, slipping from the Dark Lord's grasp and hurrying upstairs. The wings fluttering behind him, beautiful and surreal. Tom turned to the filthy muggle, trying to lift himself from the ground to avail. "You should never have laid a hand on Harry James Potter."

Beady eyes looked up at him, furious. "You're all freaks, go back to your nuthouse."

"Avada Kedavra." Tom left the body as it was, following Harry up the stairs. The teen had collapsed before one door. Tom produced the floating stretcher and levitated him onto it, entering the room. It was untidy, with things strewn about. Tom enlarged the inside of a rucksack, packing everything into it; too-big clothes, annoyingly bright Gryffindor decorations, small toys, sweets and other such things. The Dark Lord turned to Harry. "Anything else?"

"My broom... in the cupboard under the stairs." His voice was pained, and his breathing laboured.

Tom picked up the bag and placed it on the stretcher at Harry's side. He strode down the stairs with Harry floating at his wake, noticing a bony woman sobbing over the body with a fat boy behind her. He ignored the wails, opening the cupboard. As he took the broom, he noticed the makeshift bed. He realized that Harry had once slept there, which angered him to the point that he killed the woman before leaving. He Dissaparated, his hand on Harry's heaving chest. Lying Harry in the bed of the room he gave the teen, Tom sent a house-elf to bring Butterbeer, a savory Shepard's Pie, a few Dreamless Sleep and pain-reliever potions and a pan of hot water with a cloth.

Tom had not expected the boy, in the heat of a fever, to grasp Tom's robes as Tom bent to feel his forehead. Harry pulled him close, kissing him unconciously. The veela boy purred, and Tom felt more than a horcrux's pull; he felt the veela's bond to him. Of course, Veela tended to bond to whoever was around at the time of inheritance. This was a fortunate chance; Harry would join much easier now. But it was not going to be easy; veelas required much attention, and they did not like to be separated from their bonded. Tom would have to keep Harry close to his side, until he could control himself.

Tom felt the boy clinging to him and sighed, slipping into the bed. He would have to spend the night here...


	4. Good Morning

In the light just beginning to touch the cozy room, Harry woke clinging to the Dark Lord of the century with said man sleeping peacefully. Avada-Kedavra eyes stared at the tousled hair and relaxed expression, fascinated. The last time Harry had woken sharing a bed with Voldemort, he was snake-faced and a frightening thing to awaken from a dream to. But this Tom was... handsome. Harry blushed, feeling silly for thinking that. But once he started to think of the man as something beautiful, he couldn't really stop. There was a... creature in his chest that purred from the thoughts, satisfied that it was in the man's arms. This creature seemed to... love the Dark Lord. Harry felt so confused, and the wings-

The wings. He moved as best he could in the bed without waking Tom, stretching out a wing with but a thought. It was a deep blue, a blue that awed him to the point that it took his breath away. His trembling fingers touched the brilliant feathers; it was soft and silky to the touch. They shivered under his touch, beautiful as the wings of an angel...

But he was no angel. He was just Harry. The boy under the cupboard. His eyes went to the sleeping Voldemort. Why was he here, with a simple boy like him? The creature inside him curled into a corner, just like what he wanted to do. He looked away, shivering himself.

"Harry?" The teen flinched, Avada eyes meeting blood red ones. Tom smoothed his perpetually tangled hair, smiling. "I suppose you know about veelas?"

The topic surprised the young wizard. "Not much...?"

"Many pureblood families have magical creature blood of some sort, sometimes more than one kind. The Potter clan was imbued with Veela blood, making you a Half-Veela."

Harry blinked, processing the information. That creature in his chest, was that the Veela in him? The creature purred again at being noticed, obviously craving attention. The wings shivered as well, settling against his back. "Will I always be a bird?" Harry wondered aloud.

Tom chuckled. "Not always, you will gain control over your Veela side with time." Ruby eyes were lit with amusement as Tom touched the wings. The wings shivered at the touch, and Harry couldn't help but mewl. The veela inside him purred with contentment. "I suppose I shouldn't keep this from you. When a Veela reaches inheritance; that is, when your Veela blood manifests, whoever is closest and most familiar with said Veela will become the Veela's Bonded. As you had known only pain from those... Muggles," Tom's eyes hardened at the mention of the Dursley's, "I seemed to be the most familiar to you."

"And... a bonded person is...?" Harry didn't see why Tom was smirking, or why the creature purred so much.

"Mate. Partner. Lover. Whichever word you so choose."

Harry's eyes flew wide open, and a squeak escaped his throat as he stared at Tom. Lover... "As in my b-boyfriend?!" No, Dumbledore told him that wizards weren't allowed to be gay! Harry's cheeks warmed, and the creature was becoming confused. "I-I can't..." Damnit, why was he starting to cry?! Harry was strong, he scolded himself for the tears running down his cheeks. But... he understood those tears, too. For once, couldn't he be normal...?

"Harry..." His name was spoken softly, and long, slender fingers brushed away the tears. Harry hiccuped, clinging to the taller as he began to full-on cry. From confusion, from the still-fresh discovery of Ron's secret, from the ache in his heart he hadn't known was there. The ache from trying to be normal. Strong arms settled around his trembling frame, and a soft hum came from the taller.

Harry slowly relaxed, his crying calming to deep, fluttering breaths. He tried to get his thoughts together, to ask the question. "I thought... wizards... couldn't be... flits."

Tom's arms tightened around the teenaged wizard. "And who told you that?" The tone sounded unconcerned, but under it there was a seething anger.

"D-dumbledore... I told him that I..." Harry blushed a little. "I told him I, er, thought I liked other... guys... He said that because I'm 'The Chosen One', I wasn't... allowed..." Harry trailed off, seeing the fury in the other's eyes. "Is it okay...?"

"Of course, Harry. That man is a fool; he doesn't understand anything. Just ignore what he has told you, understood? I will teach you all you need to know." There was a finality in the other's tone that Harry accepted. "Now, you will be kept close to me at all times. I will not allow you to be captured by anyone, understood? Your 'Death Eater' name is Sylwyn, as you chose it, and once you feel ready to rise from bed, we shall begin developing your glamour."

Harry nodded, looking out the clear french doors to the balcony. The sun was rising; gold, rose quartz and the palest of sky blues. Clouds were watercolour-painted a cotton-candy pink, and the sun lit the room with shifting light that chased away shadows of the night. A chandelier lamp caught the new-born light and scattered it in a dazzling array of colours, born from the crystals shivering on the thin wire and lighting up shadows that the rising sun could not banish. It was indeed beautiful, more beautiful than any sunrise he had ever seen.

Harry felt at home here, as at home as the veela in him did.


	5. Meetings

Confident, Tom Riddle strode into the meeting(a large, spacious room with marble black floors and pillars on each side of a table), 'Sylwyn' at his side. Harry now had dull blue eyes and dirty-blond hair, and a scar marring the left side of his face. It would be Harry's story; that he had had a run-in with the Death-Eaters recently, as a new Death Eater that had been attacked by an Auror. They used the 'Black' name, and Lucius was forced to claim his 'nephew' and Bellatrix his 'mother'. The latter was the worst to accept, Harry thought as he stayed close to Tom, his glamoured eyes darting around. Each Death Eater had their eyes either on their Lord or the scarred teen.

"Hello, my Death Eaters." Lord Voldemort took the throne at the head of the table and conjured a second throne for 'Sylwyn'. "Severus, you bring news, I trust?"

Harry stared as Severus Snape strode forward and knelt. "Yes. The old fool's been injured, he expects me to heal him. He will end up dying before the year ends." Snape's eyes lingered on 'Sylwyn' as he rose. "My lord, if I may ask..."

"Who this is?" The Dark Lord smiled, his glamour frightening. "I have chosen to create an heir. This is Sylwyn Black, a nephew of Lucius. He is granted immunity as an Elite." The Elite were the best Death Eaters, the inner circle. They were also the most wanted of Death Eaters by the Ministry. Harry was taught this as Tom developed his glamour. "He is part Veela."

The meeting continued, and Harry found it dull. He tried to follow it; the Dementors, the Giants, 'mudbloods', the Order of the Pheonix...

"Harry."

Said teen jerked awake, mumbling "Sorry 'Mione, Professor Binns..." He took in the empty hall and looked up at an amused Voldemort. He pouted. "Why didn't you wake me?!"

"Because you looked peaceful enough. Besides, Veela are very much like cats. They need sleep." They both stood, and Harry stretched. "Dinner is prepared."

"It's noon?!"

* * *

The quill scratched on the parchment, creating a lull in the room. The golden sun streamed into Tom Riddle's study, brightening the warm room. The Dark Lord was, in fact, bored to death. Though an army runs on paperwork, as the Muggle saying went, it was bloody boring. Tom had to do it, though.

There was a creak of the door, but when Tom looked up, it must have been a draft. A few moments of wrok later, Harry's green eyes peeped over the desk. Of course, a veela hated being alone.

"What are you doing?"

"Paperwork."

"Can't you just 'Perius someone to do it?"

"No, this is too important to let a fool handle, Imperiused or not."

"Can you not do it for a day?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I wanna go into the garden." As a rule, Harry couldn't roam the mansion on his own.

"Very well." Anything to get away from that paperwork, and it was a worthy distraction for a Dark Lord.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, that was a bit of a filler. Because my mother took away my phone, I'm focusing on two other fanfictions for a bit and I have two hours after school and not much time during school to write. Sorry guys, the next update will take a while.**


End file.
